


Ready To Go Home?

by nztina



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Department of Mysteries (Harry Potter), F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Idiots in Love, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Unspeakable Hermione Granger, Unspeakables (Harry Potter), dramione - Freeform, lisa is just along for the ride, no beta on this fic so all mistakes are my own, unspeakable dean thomas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nztina/pseuds/nztina
Summary: Communication? Never heard of her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	Ready To Go Home?

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, some of my favourite tropes squished into a one-shot.

Draco Malfoy was in a mood. 

Granted, he was usually in a mood, but this was different. 

This was worse than normal.

Hermione studied him from over the edge of the file in front of her, deciding that it was high time one of them broke the silence. 

“Hey, Malfoy?”

His head snapped up. “What?” 

“Wow, did they teach you those manners at special etiquette classes, or…?” She trailed off, keeping her voice light.

“Granger, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to—”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted anything from the cafe. I’m heading up to grab a croissant.”

“Oh.” He hesitated, blinking rapidly, before shaking his head. “No. Thank you, though.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Hermione nodded. “Right. Okay. See you in a bit, then.”

As she walked down the hallway from their shared office, her now-daily thoughts about Draco clouded her brain. They had been colleagues and working partners for the past three years, but since February, something had changed. She had come to know Draco as a witty, generous man in the past few years. He was clever, matched her in every one of their arguments, and always had a coffee waiting for her at their morning briefings. 

But now, he was reserved. It was like the walls he had brought down after the war were suddenly back up. He still brought her a morning coffee, but there was no warmth in his gaze; no light in his eyes. Hermione didn’t understand it at all.

Especially since, at some point during the first year they worked together, she had developed a rather large, inconvenient crush on him. It wasn’t something she could help. Not when the man swept into their office each day, wearing beautifully tailored dress robes and the most charming smile she had ever seen. He was polite. He was chivalrous. He even liked reading _Pride and Prejudice._

And then there was his body. 

Sometimes, when Draco rolled up his sleeves during long nights of research, Hermione would have to excuse herself to the restroom to splash water on her face. 

No one had the right to have forearms like Draco Malfoy’s. 

After collecting her _croissant_ , a _pain au chocolat_ and two _cafés au lait_ , she headed back to the office. 

“I know you said you didn’t want anything,” she said, unwinding the thick scarf from around her neck, “but you haven’t eaten breakfast and I don’t want you passing out in the middle of sorting through those papers.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth lifted as Hermione placed the pastry and second coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.”

Hermione stared him down for half a minute, debating whether or not to push it. 

She decided against it. “You’re welcome.”

— — — 

It was stupid.

But - call it a witch’s intuition - she really thought he might have reciprocated her feelings. Maybe. 

It had been terrible when they first started working together, but somewhere along the line, jibes and taunts turned to trust and respect. They became the best team within the department.

And one day, she caught him looking at her the same way she looked at him.

Now? Radio silence.

If only she could figure out what was happening inside his head. 

— — — 

Some knocked on the closed door and Hermione glanced at Draco, ensuring that all of his confidential paperwork was hidden from view. She slid a file into her top drawer before waving the door open with the flick of her wand. 

Dean Thomas popped his head around the doorway.

“Hey, Hermione, Draco.”

Hermione responded with a smile, Draco with a grunt.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Ready to go home?”

“Of course,” Hermione stood, “just give me a minute, yeah?”

“Yeah, no worries.” The friendly Gryffindor, and fellow Unspeakable, smiled amiably. “I’ll just wait out here. Take your time.” 

He shut the door and Hermione heard his footsteps walking away towards the seating area in the main area of their floor. She turned to her partner and sighed, exhausted.

“Busy day.”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you okay if I head off now? I know we have a few more things to go over on the Munro case, but I’m—”

“It's fine. He's waiting for you, isn’t he?”

Hermione frowned at the acid in his tone. “Draco—”

“I’m actually heading out now, too,” he interrupted, pulling on his coat. “See you tomorrow.”

Before she could respond, Draco had accio-ed his briefcase, disappearing out the door. 

— — —

The next week was slow. 

The Department of Mysteries was the sexiest department in the entire Ministry. Supposedly, Unspeakables were elusive, glamorous and desirable. 

The paperwork was decidedly not. 

This was _definitely_ a paperwork week, what with the lack of cases coming through the department this month. Hermione eyed the stack of files in her to-do pile and suddenly felt regret at turning down Kingsley’s offer to enter the Auror training program five years ago. 

The only good thing about this week was that Draco was happier. Hermione suspected it was wholly due to his mother’s illness finally letting up. She had been sick for the past two years and, despite Draco being the consummate professional, Hermione often saw the pain in his expression while updating her on Narcissa’s condition. Sometimes, she wondered if the illness was what caused the rift in their partnership, but the timing just didn’t add up.

“How's your Mum today?”

He pulled his gaze away from the form he was completing, a smile brightening his face. 

“She’s wonderful, thanks. She’s sitting up, remembering a lot from before she was ill. The healers said she’ll be able to come home next month.”

Hermione grinned, happy to hear the relief in his voice. “That’s wonderful, Draco, I’m so happy for you both.”

They both paused, breathing hitched as the word _Draco_ hung in the air. Hermione stared at him, unblinking. She never used his first name. He never used hers.

It was their unwritten rule. 

And it had slipped out so easily. 

She cringed, turning her burning face back to her work. 

“Yeah,” came a hoarse voice. “It’s a relief.”

“I’m sure. I’m happy for you,” she repeated. 

A beeping noise came from Hermione’s cell phone and she looked down to see it flashing. Thankful for the interruption, she flicked it open to read a message from Lisa Turpin, her roommate. 

L: _Can you Floo call me pls?_

H: _Yes_

Lisa’s father was Muggle-born, so she understood concepts such as electricity and cell phones. She freelanced as an investigative journalist for several magical publications, and worked from the tiny spare room in the flat. Because she wasn’t a Ministry worker, Hermione couldn’t talk to her during the day apart from texting on their phones, and when they needed to talk properly, there was only the one-way Floo in the corner of Hermione and Draco’s office.

Hermione went over to it, calling Lisa as she sank to her knees in front of the fire. Her friend’s face poked through the embers. 

“What’s up?”

“I went a bit crazy ordering pizza tonight,” Lisa said, her voice overly loud,"so do you want to invite Draco over?”

Hermione glared down at her roommate. Lisa knew that she liked Draco, and Hermione had circumvented many not-so-subtle hints. The girl was well-meaning, but totally unhelpful. 

“I don’t think that—”

“Did someone say my name?”

 _Bollocks_. 

Hermione closed her eyes as Draco came up behind her. She could almost feel his knees brushing against the back of her shoulders. 

“Hey, Draco!” Lisa’s glowing face smiled widely at him. “D’you want to come over for dinner? It’s pizza night. We have plenty of food and Hermione would love it if you did.”

“Please don’t feel pressured,” Hermione interjected, wondering if a hex could travel through the Floo. “She’s—”

“I could eat.”

_Bollocking bollocks._

“Great!” Lisa all but yelled. “What do you drink? Wine? Beer? Coke? Sprite?”

“Er—”

“He drinks Firewhisky, Lisa.”

The thought of Draco Malfoy drinking a beer from the bottle was almost too much. Lisa’s smile only widened. 

“Ooh, what a classy _man_ , Herm—”

Hermione shut the connection. She looked up from where she was crouched to see Draco offering her his hand. He pulled her up. 

“I can back out, if you’d rather I didn’t come by.” He looked at her intently, and Hermione felt his sudden insecurity hit her like a blast of cold air. She shook her head.

“No. Of course you should come over. I—you haven’t come around since I moved to my new place.” 

He had never seen this apartment. She moved in just over a year ago when Lisa’s old roommate went overseas and Hermione found herself needing a new place to stay after her landlady sold her flat. In the first couple of years of their partnership, he had taken to dropping by with a bottle of wine, and they would sit and talk about work. Sometimes, their conversations would drift into personal territory. 

That was how Hermione got to know about Draco’s mother. 

And his nightmares. 

And what a wonderful person he was. 

But now, the idea of him coming to her new flat was an alien one. _Especially_ with Lisa playing matchmaker like an untethered lunatic. 

“Okay.” 

If she thought about it for too long, Hermione would have picked up on the faint trace of reluctance in Draco’s voice.

“Great. So, are you okay to leave soon?”

“Sure.”

Hermione realised too late that she was _way_ too close to Draco - staring u at him like an idiot - and stepped out of his personal bubble. 

“I’ll just, uh, finish off the last couple of important files and then we can go.”

— — —

Stepping through the Floo into her flat with Draco was odd. 

Somehow, he had an unopened, beautifully wrapped box of expensive French chocolates in his desk drawer, and he proffered them to Lisa upon arrival inside the flat. 

“Oh, you’re such an angel! Hermione, look, don’t you just love a man who brings chocolate?”

Hermione would have loved to _Silencio_ her roommate at that moment. She smiled tersely. 

“I need a drink.”

— — — 

Surprisingly, it was a good night. 

Lisa stopped dropping hints after her second glass of wine. Draco sat on the floor - _the floor!_ \- with his back against the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him. Lisa was on her stomach, elbows against the carpet as she wiped pepperoni grease off her chin. Hermione sat next to Draco, her knees drawn up to her chin. They were all watching a movie on the television that Hermione had fixed to run without electricity.

Jurassic Park was playing and Draco was watching, rapt. It had taken half an hour to explain what dinosaurs were before they started the movie.

“Thanks for coming over,” Hermione whispered. “I know this isn’t your ideal Friday night, or anything, so—”

“I liked it.”

She looked up at him, not bothering to hide the marvel on her face. He watched her and she felt her cheeks redden under his stare.

“I want you to know,” she started, glancing over at Lisa, who was too enraptured by the movie to hear them speak, “that—”

They both turned as the Floo flared up, Dean stepped into the room, brushing soot off his clothes. He smiled at them. 

“Hey, ladies. Draco! Nice to see you, man. Joining the girls for movie night?”

“Uh…” Draco managed, before clamping his mouth shut.

Lisa pushed herself up. “We have pizza, do you want some?”

As Dean followed Lisa into the kitchen, Draco stood and Hermione followed him up. His expression was blank. 

“Draco.”

He reached for his coat, shrugging it on hastily. “I need to go.”

“Hey.” Hermione reached for his arm. “Wait. What’s the matter?”

He fixed her with a cold expression. “I just need to go.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said, mind racing to figure out what had happened for him to leave so abruptly. “Did I do something? Or—”

He sighed, running a hand through hair. 

“No, Granger. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just need to go.”

Hermione chewed on her lip and she watched Draco’s eyes flit down to her mouth for a fraction of a second before he turned away.

“Goodnight,” she offered. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Goodnight, Granger. Thank you for dinner. Thank Lisa, too.”

“I will.”

He was gone in a flash. 

Lisa walked in, cradling a fresh glass of wine in her hand. She looked around the room and frowned. 

“Is he gone? What the fuck?”

Hermione sighed, lifting her shoulders in a defeated shrug.

“I guess I was wrong.”

“Well,” Lisa sat down on the couch, irritation clouding her features, “ _I_ wasn’t. I know there’s something between the two of you. I swear. Every single time he looks at you, it’s like he’s enchanted.”

Hermione barked a short laugh as Dean threw himself onto the armchair opposite from them, holding a plate of reheated pizza. 

“I can confirm that the guy has it bad for you, Hermione. Last week, I saw him making heart eyes at you when we were at morning briefing.”

“He did not.’

“He did. If this was, like, the 17th century, he'd be laying down his cloak so you could walk over it.”

Lisa snickered, pinching Hermione’s shoulder teasingly. 

Hermione shook her head. “It’s fine. Even if he does like me, I’m clearly not worth it to him.”

“Don’t say that,” Lisa chided. “He’s just being a stupid boy. They’re all stupid.”

“Hey!”

“You’ll see. Monday morning, you’ll see.”

— — —

On Monday evening, Hermione walked into the office after a meeting in the Aurors office to see Draco kneeling by the Floo. She heard him say goodbye to the person on the other end of the line. 

“Late call,” she remarked. “Last minute case?”

“Oh,” he looked up, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were there. Uh, no. Not work related. I was just sorting out something for the Christmas Gala.”

Hermione frowned. “What are you sorting out?”

Draco looked visibly uncomfortable as he shuffled parchment on his desk. A quill fell to the floor and he bent to pick it up. 

“Just my date for the event.”

Hermione felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head. 

“You have a date?”

Just then, Dean popped his head in through the open door. 

“Hey, guys. Hermione, ready to go home?”

Hermione looked at Dean, helplessly.

“Draco was just telling me about his date to the Christmas Gala,” she said, wondering if either man would mind her bolting from the room to cry in the ladies toilets.

Dean’s eyes widened, and he glanced between the two of them. “Oh. That’s, uh…nice. That’s nice.”

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Hermione asked, trying to calm her racing heart.

Draco finally looked her in the eye. “You know her. Do you remember Daphne Greengrass? Her sister, Astoria.”

“Oh.”

Hermione fell into her seat ungracefully, hands wringing together in her lap.

“That way I won’t be one of those pathetic singletons standing alone on the edge of the dance floor,” Draco said, and Hermione could tell he was trying for a joke but the words felt like physical blows to her body. Pathetic singletons?

Ouch.

Dean laughed, nervously. 

“Erm, shall I go? I can wait. Or not. I could—”

“No,” Draco said, giving him a brief, emotionless smile. “Hermione’s done for the day, right?”

Hermione could only nod, picking up her purse. Dean grabbed up her jacket from the coatrack and bid Draco goodnight. She gave her partner one last, confused look before following Dean down the passageway. 

_What had just happened?_

— — —

That night, she got very drunk. 

Lisa wasn’t home from her trip to Muggle London yet, so Dean was the one pouring drinks and offering her consoling words of advice. The poor fellow was totally out of his element, but he was good company.

By the time Lisa entered in through the front door, arms laden with shopping bags, Hermione was a mess. Dean perched on the arm of the sofa, a box of tissues in his lap. 

“What the fuck happened?”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Dean said, hopping off the couch to take Lisa’s shopping from her. “I’ll get this stuff settled in the room and you two can talk.”

Lisa crouched in front of Hermione, placing a palm against Hermione’s knee. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi,” Hermione whispered, nibbling her lower lip. She surrendered her empty wine glass to Lisa and watched as her friend set it on the coffee table. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Hermione swiped at some fresh tears, hating the way they fell so easily. “It’s honestly stupid,” she said, attempting a laugh. “Just so stupid of me to fall to pieces over something like this.”

“What happened?”

“Draco’s taking Astoria Greengrass to the Christmas Gala this year,” she wailed, uncaring that she sounded like a lovesick idiot. 

There was a sharp intake of breath and Lisa’s eyes hardened. “What the hell?”

“It’s just that we’ve been going together, just as friends, for the past few years now, and I thought he’d still want to go this year.”

“Did he say why he was going with her?”

“He said…” Hermione started, eyes welling up. “He…he said—”

Dean walked in, pulled Lisa up and whispered something in her ear. Hermione watched, wiping the tears that had tracked down her chin. Lisa’s face morphed from confusion to anger in a matter of seconds. Dean disappeared back into the kitchen and Lisa sat down beside Hermione. 

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” 

She opened her arms and enfolded Hermione into a hug. 

Hermione knew that women in their mid-twenties who were working professionals and war heroes should not be weeping helplessly into their friends’ shoulders at the most minor of inconveniences. 

She cried, anyway. 

— — — 

She called in sick from work for the rest of the week. Lisa was against it at first, trying to persuade her that it was better to confront the bastard. 

Hermione refused. 

She was embarrassed and ashamed that she had fallen for someone who clearly had no interest in her. 

Lisa left her alone for most of the day, only coming into the living room every so often to check that Hermione hadn’t become catatonic.

— — —

By Thursday, Hermione had worked through the initial sadness and was now just intent on watching as many stupidly predictably romantic comedies as possible. She was really scraping the bottom of the barrel with _Serendipity_ when Lisa decided that she had had enough of watching her dear friend break down over a snobby, blonde idiot. While Hermione had a shower, she apparated to Draco Malfoy’s town house. 

“Open up!” She hammered her fist against the door. “Come on, Malfoy, I know you’re in there!”

The door abruptly swung open and the man in question stared down at her, a spatula in his hand. 

“Lisa?”

Lisa marched past him, knocking his shoulder as she did. She heard the door shut as she walked further into the beautiful house, trying not to admire the architecture. 

_No._

She was mad at him. 

She whirled, hands on hips as she glared. 

“What the fuck are you playing at with _Astoria fucking Greengrass_? Are you out of your mind?”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Do you know where Hermione has been all week?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “The head of the department told me she was sick, so I’m guessing… _sick_?”

Lisa snarled. “No, you idiot, she’s not sick. She’s sitting on our couch at home, crying over stupid movies and eating ice cream. She’s _heartbroken_.”

She watched Draco’s eyes widen at her words. He blinked once, then twice, before opening his mouth.

“They broke up?”

“What? _Who_ broke up?”

“Hermione and Dean, obviously.”

Lisa stared at him, wondering if she was hallucinating. 

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?!”

“Hermione and Dean! You _just_ said she’s heartbroken.” Draco waved his spatula in the air. “I’m assuming that git dumped her…or did _she_ dump _him_?”

Lisa closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips to her forehead. She tried to regulate her breathing. When she opened them again, Draco was still looking at her like she had grown a third eye. 

She shook her head and advanced towards him, a plan forming in her mind.

“I hope you don’t get travel-sick,” she muttered, clamping her hand down on his arm and apparating them back to the flat. 

When they arrived just next to the couch, Draco stepped away from Lisa. “I don’t understand,” he started to say. “Why—”

“Lisa? Did you go somewhere? I thought I heard you apparating.” Hermione called from inside her room. She walked out in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Lis—oh, _God_!” She jumped when she saw Draco standing there with his spatula in his hand. They stared at each other with mirroring panicked expressions until Lisa cleared her throat. 

“Right. The two of you had this coming, because there’s been a massive misunderstanding here and I don’t think it’s going to be resolved until the two of you actually _talk_ instead of tiptoeing around your feelings.” She grabbed her bag from the sofa and slung it onto her shoulder. “I’m going to the Three Broomsticks for a pint.” 

She pecked Hermione on the cheek before walking out the door. 

“Oh,” she stopped, turning back for a moment to look at them both. “I won’t be back tonight. So, uh, don’t wait up for me.”

She winked. 

— — —

Draco shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Hermione watched him warily. 

“What are you doing here?” She crossed her arms over her torso, acutely aware that she had nothing on underneath her robe.

“I don’t know. I was just cooking dinner and your roommate came to my door and yelled at me.”

Hermione groaned, turning away to walk into the kitchen. She heard Draco follow her.

“I’m sorry. She means well, but she wasn’t supposed to do that. You can leave.”

Draco set the spatula he was holding down on the counter. “She said you were heartbroken.”

“She was exaggerating.”

“Was she?”

Hermione knew, as soon as Draco came closer to her, that he could see her red-rimmed eyes. He was only a metre away from her now. 

She needed a glass of water. 

Before she could turn, a large hand caught her wrist, drawing her back to him with gentleness she could not fathom. He held her there in front of him, staring down into her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to run away. 

“Draco—”

“Are you dating Dean Thomas?”

Hermione’s eyes flared wide, her mouth falling open. 

“ _What_?”

“Dean Thomas. Is he or is he not your long-term boyfriend?”

Hermione tugged her wrist free. 

“Are you _insane_?!” she screeched. “Where the hell did you get that idea from?”

“I don’t know,” Draco’s voice rose to match hers in volume. “Maybe it’s the fact that thrice a week, he comes to fetch you from our office so you can _go home together_!”

“HE’S _LISA’S_ BOYFRIEND, YOU MORON! I ONLY GO HOME AT THE SAME TIME AS HIM BECAUSE THEN WE CAN USE THE HIGH OCCUPANCY FLOO AND IT HAS A SHORTER _QUEUE_!”

“HOW THE _FUCK_ WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?!”

Hermione opened her mouth to yell back, but found the situation almost too comical to continue bellowing. Inside, she shook her head. 

“They’ve been dating since Hogwarts, Draco. How could you not know that? He lives at the flat for half the week.”

The wind seemed to have been knocked out of Draco’s lungs. He fell back to sit on a chair. 

“Why only half the week?”

Hermione sighed, pulling out another chair and sitting next to him. “Because his family needs him. His siblings aren’t magical, and neither are his parents, but they suffered a lot during the war and he likes to spend time with them when he can. Lisa stays there, too.”

Draco was looking down at his hands, shame covering his face.

“I’ve been a fool,” he mumbled.

“I thought you liked me,” Hermione mumbled, her voice timid. “All these years working together, I thought there was something there between us, and then one day, you stopped being my friend. It was really difficult for me, Draco. For a while, I thought it was your mother; that the illness was weighing you down, but I _knew_ it was something else.”

“I misunderstood—”

“You broke our friendship because you thought he was my boyfriend. Honestly, that’s so childish. You could have spoken to me. You should have told me how you felt. I’ve been carrying this weight on my heart—”

“I thought you were with him.”

“Think logically, Malfoy. Did you ever see me kiss him? _Touch him_ , even?”

“I thought you might not like public displays of affection.”

Hermione nodded, pulling her towel off her head and draping it across the back of the chair. Her wet curls stuck to her cheeks. “And you’re right, I don’t. But even I would hold my boyfriend’s hand once in a while.”

Draco looked up at her, his expression pained. 

“I was jealous.”

“Yeah, I can see that now, though I never would have guessed that I was the reason for your mood swings this past year.”

“About what Lisa said, you know, about you being heartbroken,” he began, and Hermione felt embarrassment colour her cheeks. He continued, “I want you to know that I only asked Astoria to the ball because I assumed you would be taking Dean this year.”

“I’m not. I’m,” she paused, thinking back to what Draco had said on Monday, “a pathetic singleton who will probably spend the evening standing on the edge of the dance floor.”

She didn’t hate the way he cringed. 

_Good. He deserved it._

“You know I was only saying that because I—”

“I know. But it still hurt to hear you say it.”

“I know. I feel so awful about it, I wish I could take it back.” He hung his head. “I feel like a fool and I’m _so_ incredibly sorry that I hurt you, Hermione.”

“It’s fine.” She tried to look nonchalant as she continued, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach at hearing him call her by her first name. “I don’t mind going alone, it’s always nice to watch people dancing.”

Draco looked pained. “I’ll cancel with Astoria.”

“No, don’t be silly.” Hermione felt hot tears prick in the corners of her eyes. “It’s only two weeks until the ball, it would be unkind to her.”

Draco took her hand in his and she tried not to blush at the contact when he started tracing his thumbs across her skin. 

“She was only going with me as a favour, Hermione. I told her I needed someone to pretend to be my date for the night and she was happy to help. Her boyfriend’s on the Irish National quidditch team.”

“I see.”

“So, will you attend the Gala with me?”

“As your colleague?”

“No, Hermione, not as my colleague. As—” he stood, pulling her up with him. “As the best friend I’ve ever had and the woman that I’ve been pining over for years.”

“ _Years_?”

“Since the very first day we became partners.”

“Ask me properly, then.”

Draco smiled, sliding his arm around Hermione’s waist. He pulled her close so that her chest was brushing against his, dipping his forehead to press against hers. Her legs nearly gave out. 

“Hermione, would you please allow me the honour of escorting you to the 253rd annual Christmas Gala?”

She wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing tight. “Only if you promise to get along with my boyfriend, Dean.”

He laughed, not breaking away from her. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

She shook her head. “Not when I tell all of my friends why it took so long for us to sort ourselves out. Lisa will never let you forget this, for sure.”

“Do you forgive me for being a total arse?”

Hermione pretended to think about it before grinning. “I guess I do.”

“Good, because I’ve been waiting about three years to kiss you and I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Neither can I.”

She couldn’t help herself from reaching up on her toes to press her lips against his, and she barely had time to register how soft they were before her back was against the refrigerator and he was kissing her zealously. 

It turned out that Draco Malfoy could also add _fantastic snog_ to his list of many attributes. 

He kissed her with the kind of passion that she had only read about in novels and it was only when his teeth were scraping against her throat that Hermione’s mind went blessedly blank. She allowed herself to relax fully into the kiss, tugging at Draco’s silky hair until his lips were back on hers. 

“I can’t believe we wasted so much time,” she murmured, feeling him smile against her mouth.

“It doesn’t matter now. After all, three years of foreplay should count for something, right?” And with that, Hermione was lifted off the ground. She wrapped her legs around Draco’s torso and was carried down the hall. 

“Which room?”

“Left.”

Just before Hermione was released onto the bed, she reached her hands up to cup Draco’s face, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones. 

“Before we go any further,” she whispered, “I want you to know that I—”

“Yes?” A crease appeared between his brows.

“I more than like you, Draco Malfoy.”

His momentarily tense expression melted away to relief and he smiled, kissing her nose. 

“Then it’s probably a good time to tell you that I more than like you, too.”

“Good.”

“What’s good is that your roommate is away all night.”

“We should make up for that lost time, then.”

“I couldn’t agree more, partner.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“We’d better be quick before Dean, my boyfriend, catches us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Come say hello on [tumblr](https://nztina.tumblr.com/).


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